


lust for life

by belgard



Category: Lana Del Rey (Musician), Marina & the Diamonds
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Romance, So yeah, it's pg but there's masturbation, this ends happily i swear, wow that's a lot of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 20:43:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belgard/pseuds/belgard
Summary: the dilemmas of marina diamandis, the girl who is in love with her free-spirited mod dresses-wearing best friend, elizabeth grant.





	lust for life

**Author's Note:**

> hey lol i'm back !!! and i've always wanted to write something larina so i did. this one i started before i fell asleep but oh well. i really do hope you'll like this one ! much love to you all, dearest rats [by the way i did some half-arsed research and you can't actually stand ?? on top of the hollywood sign? or maybe you can? idk lol]

 

 

 

Marina tugs down the bottom of her light, dusty pink mod dress, and even though she would usually be glad that she ordered the wrong size—and it’s just so _convenient_ that it’s a size too small for her figure—she feels a bit insecure now that she has put a little more weight after she spent the holiday with her family in Wales, and God knows how much her family loves to throw little dinner parties where there’s usually just _too many_ plates of food on the dinner table. But she had her favourite stew, though, so it was worth the slight added pounds.

 

It’s the stares that bother her a tiny bit. It’s how they look at her exposed, pale thighs when she walks down the hallway, one hand gripping the strap of her messenger bag, and the other slightly trembling in nervousness. Some people look at her like she’s some cheap whore, some people look at her like she’s fresh meat, hung behind the glass pane to display. It’s the rush of vulnerability that gets to her nerves, because she _knows_ she should’ve worn those jeans and oversized jumper instead. She _knows_ she should’ve just went on with a simple eyeshadow and peach blush instead of drawing a little heart on her cheekbone with her eyeliner and thick, bold liner on each of her eyelids. She should’ve simply put her hair in a ponytail and let it wave naturally as the day goes on, instead of curling it until it’s so dramatically wavy, flowing down her narrow shoulders. She looks and feels like she wants the attention, no, _craves_ the attention when in reality she loathes it. She’s not Elizabeth, she’s not like her best friend who struts in style, with confidence, with raw power. She’s not like her best friend who’s _best_ in everything.

 

“Hey, baby,” halts one boy from a group she just walked pass. “I forgot your name, but that doesn’t matter. Come home with me tonight?” When she doesn’t answer, his friends whistle and the boy who called her walks forward and grabs her wrist, turning her whole body around to face him. A rush of fear runs in her body, and she gulps, because _what the fuck?_ He looks at her like she has told him that he eats shit for a living; eyebrows pulled together and mouth downturned in what seems like a beginning of a fit of rage and annoyance. “I was talking to you.”

 

“Leave my girl alone,” says a voice behind Marina, and she doesn’t even need to turn around to know who it belongs to. The hand on her wrist loosens, and the boy begins to huff. The palm of Elizabeth’s gloved hand suddenly places itself on Marina’s back, right between her shoulder blades, and it travels down until she has her hand on the side of her waist. Marina takes a quick breath, her heartbeat stuttering. “Was he bothering you?” Elizabeth asks with a tilt of her head, red heart-shaped sunglasses perched on top of her thick locks of dark brown hair.

 

“Fuck off, Grant.”

 

“Learn some manners before you talk shit, babe,” she simply croons. “See ‘ya.” She turns Marina around and walks with her down the hallway, the sounds of their clacking heels standing out in the midst of the endless chatter of the students around them. For a second there Marina didn’t even realise that Elizabeth’s hand was still on her waist, but then she lets go, and it leaves an oddly empty feeling there, as if her hand on her waist was _exactly_ where it belongs.

 

“Thanks, Liz,” says Marina with a smile when they arrives in front of the doors to her first class, History. Elizabeth smiles in return, and Marina takes a moment to look at her pale yellow dress that stops at the middle of her thighs, white go-go boots that go up to her knees, and those sunglasses on her head, acting like some kind of an art deco piece that would never be used for its actual purpose. She looks like an Andy Warhol piece, and Marina’s shoulders slump when she takes both of her hands in hers and sends a charming grin.

 

“Next time, kick those boys’ balls for me if they bother you, alright?”

 

Marina smiles, biting her bottom lip to keep it from spreading wider. “Of course.”

 

“I gotta go,” Elizabeth says before she turns around, walking towards her class in the middle of the sea of students like she parted it herself. Marina sighs as she enters the class, mind running endlessly on Elizabeth.

 

The girl she has fallen head over heels for since they were children.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

It would be as painful as you think it’d be, to fall for Elizabeth Grant. The moment the two of them walked down that hallway, Elizabeth was the one who stood out the most—with her white see-through blazer over cherry red bralette and some well-fitting beige slacks. Marina was there next to her, looking at the floor to avoid any odd looks from seniors, whilst Elizabeth was _owning_ the place like it was her own runway. She has caught the gazes of both girls, boys, and everything in between and more, some staring at her in envy, some in wonder, and some in lust. It was impossible to not fall for Elizabeth Grant, even when all she simply did was eat at the cafeteria with her Welsh best friend, walk to class with her Welsh best friend, go home by foot with her Welsh best friend, and study together with her Welsh best friend.

 

It frustrates Marina because she _knows_ she could never date her very own best friend in one way or another, and it frustrates her because she doesn’t know how to move on, nor does she _wants_ to move on from Elizabeth, as every single time Marina wants to forget about her, Elizabeth comes into her life with a strut again, smiling charmingly as she does so in her 50’s heels or vintage Mary Jane’s. It tires her out completely, but she would never beg for mercy.

 

And it’s frustrating as well to know that Elizabeth has kissed both girls _and_ boys throughout their high school life, and none of them has been Marina. She just watches in the corner with her cup of fizzy drink, gulping because of the desperation in her little mind keeps pushing her and reminding her how much she wants to be that stranger or classmate. She has seen Elizabeth kiss other people more times than she can imagine, and from what she has seen her kiss must be phenomenal. Mind blowing. Heavenly. Spellbinding. Arousing. And every other amazing adjectives Marina has read in the dictionary.

 

Elizabeth always kisses like she means it, and sometimes Marina wonders if—just _if—_ one day, she could be the receiver of that phenomenal kiss.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Marina lies down in her bed one night, just an hour after a little study session and sharing gossips with Elizabeth, and when she looks up, she sees her fairy lights setting a romantic bronze tone onto her dimly-lit room, almost fully immersed in the darkness. She takes off her cotton pajama pants and throws it across the room, hoping it would get inside the laundry basket by luck. (It doesn’t.) And she dips her head back into her pillow, with her bare thighs on display against the slight coldness of her bedroom. Her breathing quickens, chest moving up and down, up and down, up and down like she’s suffocating. Well indeed she _is,_ because in her mind all she can think about is Elizabeth, and how she smiled at her that late evening, when she opened the door to Marina’s room with a tote bag full of snacks and books. Elizabeth was dressed simply in shorts, a black tank top, and oversized black wool cardigan that kept slipping off her shoulder whenever she leant down to help Marina with her problem.

 

Marina lets her hand graze her thighs a little more aggressively, running her fingernails across the skin until it would leave pink marks on the surface, as she imagines Elizabeth would do. Marina’s mind starts to run off on its own, and her breath quickens rapidly when she lets her hand down her cotton underwear.

 

She imagines it’s Elizabeth’s hand— _her Liz_ _—_ and she would look up to stare at her as she does so, her wispy lashes fluttering up in lust and desire, and as Marina sees it, her eyes are just as lustful and desirous as hers. It’s so crazy, when she imagines Elizabeth’s other hand running up and down her thighs, neck stretched up elegantly to place her head on the crook between Marina’s neck, biting down on the surface until it draws blood, leaving bruises like little explosions of stars, vividly purple and red— _bursting_ with colours. Elizabeth would whisper sweet nothings to her ear, biting the shell of her eyes as she does so, and that hand on Marina’s thigh would go up to her hair and yanks it backwards to expose the column of her throat even more, revealing more empty, unmarked areas that Elizabeth would have to fill in, like an artist would when she sees her little flawed painting with little gaps with the surface of the canvas peeking through. It feels _surreal_ , like Marina can feel the small puffs of Elizabeth’s hot breath on her lips, the hand on her—

 

Marina arches her back off the bed, mouth agape as a throaty moan escapes from her lips.

 

“Lana—” Suddenly it’s her childhood nickname that flows out of her mouth in a form of a breathy gasp, heat running through her body as she moves a little quicker, pinching and entering like Elizabeth would do. It’s not Liz or Elizabeth. It’s ‘Lana’, like how she called her when Elizabeth was running towards her from the swing set. It’s ‘Lana’, like how she called her when Elizabeth was playing the Barbie doll with her. It’s ‘Lana’, because it has always been. “I—I...”

 

And it’s the breathy whisper of Marina’s name in Elizabeth’s voice that coaxes her release, sending her body jolting like she has been electrocuted and hazed with ecstasy.

 

Marina slumps in her bed, eyes drifting close and quick gasps turning into something slower.

 

She dreams of a bed of roses that night.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

“Liz?” asks Marina when they walk out of school, one hand gripping onto the strap of her messenger bag out of nervousness. She hasn’t felt this nervous since her fifth-grade Talent Show event when she had to sing “I Feel Fine” by the Beatles. Elizabeth hums a reply. “D’you wanna get some coffee downtown? I’m just feeling a bit worn, ‘s all. But—But it’s fine if you don’t want to, I’ll just get it myself, I don’t want you to think I’m bothering you or anything—”

 

“Marina!” Elizabeth snaps, and Marina immediately stops her rambling. “I’d love to.” She grins, before she takes Marina’s hand in her gloved one and runs with her towards the bus stop across the school. She feels her heart beating faster by the second, like it’s going to _burst_ , and she can’t help the chuckle that escapes her mouth. Elizabeth laughs, and it makes her heart flutter like mad. Elizabeth’s dressed in a short cream-coloured cocktail dress today, partnered with some white stilettos and a white ribbon headband. Meanwhile, Marina’s got silver glitter all over her cheekbones because Elizabeth said it would look good on her that day in Arts class. Of course Marina let her spread glitter all over her face with her slightly sticky fingers because in all honesty, Marina would let her do anything she wants to her. She can do whatever she wants as long as Marina can see that smile on her face again, bright and charming— _happy._ And now they’re waiting for their bus under the stop, chuckling at their own stupidity for running across the street as a car honks on them in annoyance after they arrived at the other side. It’s stupid, but everythinf she does with Elizabeth has always been a wonderful part, or a wonderful chapter in her little life diary that she keeps on locked tight in her heart.

 

When they arrive, the coffee shop is nearly full, leaving only teo empty seats. Elizabeth jogs towards the one near the big window, sitting there with a big smile on her face, the luminesence light sparkling against her features like they were meant to be there.

 

“Black, two sugars,” says Elizabeth. Marina smiles with a nod before she walks towards the cashier and tells the girl behind the counter her orders.

 

Elizabeth looks nice there, waiting without caring like she’s all alone there. She’s always like that; careless, cool, calm and collected. She has always had her self control in check, like it’s a part of her morning beauty routine, right before her serum. Marina always envied her and looked up to her at the same time, and it’s confusing because that’s her _best friend_ , someone who she should be looking as a sister figure, not someone she wants to _date._ Marina wonders what would her parents think of this; her longing crush on her own childhood best friend, the person she grew up with, learnt with, played with. She wonders if after all this is all just some innocent play date, a quick feeling to be swept under the rug later on because Marina is simply bi-curious. Maybe she would marry a man later in her life, have a house in Wales, give birth to two kids just because.

 

But Marina doesn’t even try to bury the burning feeling in her chest that she _really_ wants it all, but with Elizabeth. Not a man, not another woman—Elizabeth Grant.

 

Or perhaps she’s just losing her mind.

 

“Excuse me, miss?” the barista asks, and Marina blinks out of her rather embarrassing reverie, quickly smiling awkwardly towards the amused barista. “What’d you like to order?”

 

“Black, two sugars,” she says. “And a latte.”

 

The barista types into the keyboard before she looks up to Marina with a smile, and a quite sincere one, that is. “That’d be ten twenty-five.”

 

Marina takes out her wallet and pays for their drinks, saying a quick ‘thank you’ afterwards, just because. Elizabeth looks up at her when she sits down, brushing off invisible dust off her thighs. She doesn’t know why she’s all nervous and fidgeting when Elizabeth is _there_ , calm and relaxed. When Marina looks up, she’s faced to one Elizabeth Grant, who’s resting her head on her propped up elbow, with her open palm against her chin. She looks at Marina intently, like she’s trying to figure something out and trying to unravel what it is that makes Elizabeth look so focused. Marina immediately flushed, feeling that particular heat on her cheeks as she looks away, away from Elizabeth’s captivating eyes and flirty, wispy lashes. She doesn’t know why Elizabeth is trying so hard, as Marina herself admits that she’s practically an open book.

 

“What?” Marina softly lets out after a while, feeling the gaze burning into her skin just a little.

 

Elizabeth smiles. “Nothing,” she says slowly. “You just look nice today, Mar.”

 

Marina freezes; she doesn’t know how to respond. Yes, Elizabeth has complimented on her looks before, but there’s just something about this one that makes Marina so petrified. Maybe it’s the way she stares when she says it. Or maybe it’s the way she slowly smiles wider when Marina looks back at her. She doesn’t know what it is, because Elizabeth has always been a wonderful enigma. It hurts Marina, it truly does; the feeling of loving someone you could never have, and having the feeling growing into something _so_ strong that not even she can bear it. She just wishes for it to be over, but each second she spends with Elizabeth feels like another little paradise.

 

Suddenly, a voice calls out her name, and Marina jumps on her seat. Across her, Elizabeth simply chuckles, telling her, “That must be ours.”

 

Marina nods, still feeling the warmth in her body as she smiles in return. “I think so.”

 

Marina walks briskly, smiling at the barista before she takes both of their drinks.

 

“Hey,” says the girl behind the counter, with some whipped cream smeared on her left cheek. Marina turns around with an eyebrow raised. The girl smiles and nods at Elizabeth near the window. “You guys are a cute couple.”

 

Marina feels heat all over her cheeks, and she quickly widens her eyes and shakes her head. “Ah, no,” she chuckles awkwardly, “we’re not...”

 

“Oh, you guys aren’t together?”

 

Marina shakes her head.

 

“Shame,” the girl says. “I’m sorry, though.”

 

Marina smiles, just a little bit, and even though she wants the girl’s speculation to be the truest thing she knows, she has to fave reality and she has to face it with attitude and confidence—just like Elizabeth.

 

“It’s alright.”

 

It’s alright, indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Thanks,” says Elizabeth when Marina puts down the cold plastic cup on the table. “I miss this.”

 

Marina sits down and looks up. “Miss what? Coffee?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head, “I miss _this._ You, me, Starbucks.”

 

Marina bites the inside of her cheeks to repress a smile that threatens to grace her face, because it’s not real, she shouldn’t show how happy she is to hear something like that from Elizabeth, something so _heart-stopping._ She’s simply being friendly, but Marina’s mind is playing all kinds of tricks on her, trick that even professional magicians can’t do. Elizabeth misses _her_ company, not anyone else’s, and perhaps that’s enough to fuel Marina’s little fantasy where her best friend might just love her back.

 

But even _she_ knows it’s not true. It never will be.

 

Though, just for one day, maybe Marina can pretend that it might be.

 

“I—I miss this too, Liz.” She sends her a tight-lipped smile instead, the one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Thankfully, Elizabeth doesn’t notice something that’s hidden behind it, or Marina would rather move back to Wales to avoid the disgust Elizabeth could express at the knowledge of her best friend being in love with her. “I miss this too.”

 

“You know, Mom wants you to have dinner with us tomorrow. Turns out she just learnt something from a recipe book that Dad bough yesterday. I don’t know what it is, though. It’s French.” Elizabeth shrugs. “Fancy. Anyways, Mom wants to have you there with us ‘cause she wants to show off.” And right there and then, Elizabeth looks up, with the green straw tucked to the side of her mouth like she’s sucking on a lollipop instead of drinking a beverage from an overrated coffee shop. Marina wants to kiss her, she really does, especially when Elizabeth’s looking at her with this hopeful look in her eyes, the kind of look that makes her eyes twinkle and sparkle like the night sky. Though, just a bit better. “You’ll come, right?”

 

Marina grins. “Of course,” she says. “Of course I will.”

 

Elizabeth laughs, and Marina is in trouble.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

“Marina!” Mrs Grant hugs her the second she appears behind that door she knows so well, that white painted wooden door of the entrance to the Grant house. “I’ve missed you!”

 

“I miss you too, Mrs Grant.”

 

“Come on, come inside. Elizabeth is in her room doing God knows what,” says Mrs Grant. “You can wait in the living room if you’d like to.”

 

“Oh, I’d love to.”

 

Mrs Grant smiles up at her. “Then be a good girl and go. There’s some cookies I’ve made yesterday.”

 

“Thanks, Mrs Grant.” Marina smiles, and she missed _this_. She missed going to Elizabeth’s house to have dinner and watch TV and eat cookies like they’re family. Like they’re just best friends. But of course, Marina just has to ruin everything.

 

You see, this wasn’t supposed to happen. _All_ of this. Marina wasn’t supposed to fall in love with her best friend, and her best friend wasn’t supposed to be the most charming person alive. Perhaps it’s her floral perfume, or maybe it’s her mod dresses, or maybe it’s the way she sips on Cherry Cola, or maybe it’s the way she puts on her heart-shaped sunglasses that her father bought on a trip to France. Marina doesn’t know. Or maybe it’s the way she touches, oh-so-gently, or maybe it’s the way she kisses, passionate and breathless. Or perhaps it’s the way she thinks and laughs, deep and careless.

 

Marina doesn’t know.

 

“Mar?” comes a voice behind her. Marina whips her head around to see Elizabeth walking down the stairs in her pyjamas, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Mrs Grant comes behind her with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

 

“I thought Elizabeth was getting ready,” says Mrs Grant. “Turned out she was still asleep.” She reaches forwards to slap the back of Elizabeth’s head, and the latter winces before she rubs the back of her head and chuckles.

 

“Sorry, Mom,” she says. “Completely forgotten the time.”  She looks down to stare at Marina apologetically. “Sorry, Mar.”

 

“It’s alright.”

 

“Dinner’s on the table,” says Mrs Grant as she saunters towards the kitchen with a table cloth tucked onto a pocket on her jeans. “Let’s go.”

 

Marina laughs, because again: _she missed this._

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

“Hey, haven’t you heard of that new palette Tarte’s gonna release?” asks Elizabeth the second they sit down at their table, putting down their plastic trays like prisoners. Marina shakes her head. “It’s called the ‘Tartelette: In Bloom’.”

 

“I have the original one,” says Marina. “Is the new one any better?”

 

Elizabeth giggles when she bites down on her sandwich, chewing it slowly. “I think. They’re more practical, I think? The reviews had been so fucking good and dear god, I want that palette.” Elizabeth sighs desperately.

 

“But didn’t you buy a new palette a month ago?” Marina asks, raising an eyebrow because of Elizabeth’s little dangerous addiction with eyeshadow palettes, be it high-end or drugstore bought. Elizabeth looks up at her and pouts. “What was it, the Maybelline one?”

 

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Yeah, it was the Maybelline one.” She then looks up at the ceiling and groans loudly, her shoulders slumped. “It was the new one, Mar, not the shitty Nudes. I got the ‘Rooftop Bronzes’ and I _really_ want some new shadows.” She sighs again. “Even though that one is still so nice. _And_ I haven’t even hit pan yet.”

 

Marina reaches over, and she doesn’t know what came over her but she does so, and she fights the embarrassment building up in her cheeks and puts up a sincere smile instead. She hopes it could cheer her best friend up, somehow. Maybe just a little bit. “Liz, you’ll get a new bloody pallete, alright?” she assures, “we’ll go to Sephora.” When she sees Elizabeth beaming up, she cuts off with a “In _December._ ”

 

Elizabeth groans frustratedly, again. “But _Marina,”_ she elongates the last vowel like a child. “That’s like, five months from now!”

 

“You also need to save your money, Elizabeth.”

 

Elizabeth takes her hand away from Marina’s to rest her chin against it, and Marina winces inwardly, because _that_ was embarrassing. “Fuck,” she says. “You sound _just_ like Mom.”

 

“Well,” Marina chuckles, “when she’s not here, I’m kind of your mother.”

 

Elizabeth laughs, open and airy. Marina can only stare, because that’s all she does.

 

Stare.

 

“I guess you are,” says Elizabeth. “But you’re the coolest mom ever, though.” She then leans closer and winks at her, batting those wispy dark eyelashes. “And the hottest.”

 

Marina gulps, and oh! there it is again.

 

“Aw! Marina, are you _blushing?_ ” Elizabeth is grinning at her with full cheeks, hands reaching forwards to pinch Marina’s cheeks and pushing them all around as if they were Play-Doh.

 

 _Yikes_ , Marina thinks. _I really_ am _pathetic._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

“Marina?” Elizabeth approaches her after school in front of the door of her last class, chewing on her rose-coloured bottom lip and looking down at her white Mary-Jane’s. The truth is, it is rare for Marina to see her best friend quite nervous, and as much as the latter would like to deny it, Marina’s good with emotions and she can tell what goes on behind the mask of contorted features. Elizabeth is mostly cocky, confident, sure and quick. But now she seems slow and hesitant. Marina quickly meets her eye and frowns. “Can you...like...come to my house? Tonight?”

 

“What time?” Marina’s voice softens.

 

“Seven. Seven would be great.”

 

“I’ll be there, Liz,” she says, eyebrows knotted together as she puts down a hand on her best friend’s shoulder lightly, because she doesn’t know if she can—but she does want to do it. “I’ll be there. You know that, right?”

 

Elizabeth looks up and smiles. “Yeah,” she says quickly. “Yeah, I know you will.”

 

Marina sighs and bites the inside of her cheeks. “Alright.” She nods. “Alright, Liz.”

 

“Thanks, Mar,” says Elizabeth. “I just...”

 

“I understand.”

 

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow hesitantly. “You—you do?”

 

Marina smiles. “I do.”

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

Two knocks on the door for Marina.

 

One. Two.

 

“Liz? I’m coming in, okay?” says Marina slowly before she twists the silver knob and pushes inside, where she sees Elizabeth lying on her bed, hugging on her pillow with one earbud in her ear, face clear of makeup.

 

Marina walks over slowly, as she sits down near the foot of the bed, feeling the mattress sink down beneath her weight. Elizabeth sits up and takes off her earbud, looking up at Marina with a confusing look on her face, something Marina cannot decipher, which is _supposed_ to be common for Marina, but really. She can’t figure this one out, not this time. Elizabeth crawls on the bed to sit beside her, leaning her head on Marina’s shoulder as they sit there in silence, with only the soft hums of Etta James’ “At Last” coming from the earphones. Elizabeth must’ve forgotten to pause the song.

 

“Liz,” Marina starts. “Are you alright?”

 

“No,” she replies, and her voice lost the kind of distinctiveness in it, the breathy tone in it, the melodic tone in it, the _Elizabeth_ in it. She sounds less like Elizabeth Grant with heart-shaped sunglasses and short mod dresses, and more like  Lana, small and childlike, maybe a bit afraid as well. “No, I’m not alright.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Marina feels Elizabeth’s hand on her thigh, just gripping on the cotton of ther pajama pants. Marina feels hot, and she puts her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder, gripping on it lightly with promises of reassurement. If she could ensure it.

 

“You know Alexander Turner?”

 

“The... _English cunt_ Alex Turner?” Marina scoffs. “Yeah, I know him. What’s wrong? Did he do something to you?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

Marina tilts her head and gulps. “What kind?”

 

“The kind that makes me upset,” Elizabeth says. “The kind that gropes me when I say he can’t _touch_ me. The kind that touches me in places I don’t want him to.” Her voice is light and whisper-like, but Marina doesn’t miss the growl behind it. The rage behind it.

 

Marina quickly puts her arms around Elizabeth, hugging her sideways, but it’s alright. Marina feels warm, and if she could, she’s make Elizabeth warm too, as she had been cold, _freezing,_ even with that fire inside her body that’s screaming just behind her eyes.

 

“Oh, deary,” says Marina softly. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to look after you because that’s what we do, we look after each other and I’m sorry—“

 

“Marina, it wasn’t your fault,” she says, voice nearly breaking. “I was at class and then I went to the bathroom, and then I suppose that bastard saw me at the hall from _his_ class, and then followed me there.” She breathes a bit heavier, like she’s desperate, and everything is oh-so-quiet. “I... Maybe it was my fault too. I mean, you know how I am, Mar. I used to hook up with him, too.”

 

“Yeah, but that _doesn’t_ give him the bloody rights to _touch_ you, Liz.” She sighs. “You of all people should know. You should never blame yourself. If you’re sexually active, then, fuck— _fine._ I’m your friend, and you know I’m always there for you no matter what you do. I’d help you bury the body, Elizabeth, you know Iwould. You shag here and there, and that’s alright! Don’t feel guilty about it, because _you_ know it’s never _your_ fault.” She sighs, feeling the crown of Elizabeth’s head on her neck, and she presses herself closer to Elizabeth because she wants it. She needs it. Everything about Elizabeth is cold right now, and she wants to comfort her because even though she loves her more than anything, she’s still her best friend. The one that comforts her when she needs to be comforted. “Look, Liz,” she sighs. And it doesn’t matter what she says, because she never thinks. “You know I’ll always love you no matter what happens, right? I’m always there, you can always talk to me. Even when you think I’m being distant.”

 

Elizabeth chuckles. “You’re never distant, Mar,” she says. “ _You_ are always there while I’m fucking around.”

 

Marina sighs.

 

And then Elizabeth sits up and faces her, puts one hand on the other’s cheeks and brings her face closer, but never touching.

 

“Do you mean it?” Elizabeth asks, and Marina is on fire. “Will you always be there for me even when I’m a fucking mess?”

 

Marina nods, she nods rapidly because _yes_.

 

Elizabeth’s voice softens. “Will you—will you still love me?”

 

Marina’s breath gets caught in her throat. She doesn’t know what to answer because the two candidates sounds just as bad. She wants to answer _yes_ —

 

“Yes.”

 

Shit.

 

And then Elizabeth blinks—she blinks fast—and she looks down at Marina’s lips, and then her eyes, and all Marina can focus on is the way her heart is pounding in her chest. Elizabeth’s breathing quickens, and Marina stays frozen, with Elizabeth’s hand on her thigh. Her hand wanders up up _up,_ and then Elizabeth leans closer...

 

“Elizabeth!”

 

The two girls jump at the noise, and it repeats from downstairs, where the sound is muffled by the door. “Elizabeth!”

 

“Come help me with the dishes!”

 

“Just—just a minute, Mom!”

 

She turns to Marina, where the latter is staring down at her thighs, just breathing heavily. Elizabeth hesitantly raises her hand up to Marina’s dark hair, tucking a piece of it behind her ear.

 

“You can stay if you want.”

 

“I...I think I have some Maths homework, actually,” says Marina as she stands up, because she needs to get away from this all. “I’m so sorry, Liz, but I _really_ need to go.”

 

“Oh.” Elizabeth’s face falls, and Marina ignores it because she _knows_. She knows it could never be true, not in a million years. Her dreams of their relationship is merely a constructed fantasy in her mind. “It’s—It’s alright. Sorry for dragging you in here.”

 

“Elizabeth, no, it’s...it’s okay.” She smiles. “Everything’s fine. I’m sorry, I need to go.”

 

Elizabeth smiles. “Okay.”

 

And as Marina walks down the pavements that night, her body is pulsing, heating up, and her eyes is stinging up because she’s so so desperate.

 

She’s so in love, but she never meant any of this to happen.

 

She wants to cancel everything out and start over, because this is too much.

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

At night, Marina hears two knocks on her front door, and her house is pitch dark, with only the kitchen lights on. She walks down the stairs hesitantly, rubbing on her eyes to wake her up. Who would even visit her house at—she looks up at the clock above the television—two a.m. in the morning?

 

Marina turns the knob and pulls it slowly, only to meet Elizabeth.

 

She’s dressed in a short red dress, minimalist, but still so _her._ She also wears a pair of red heels and a paid of white lacey gloves, drawing intricate details on her fair hands. Marina widens her eyes and raises her eyebrows.

 

“Come on, Mar,” she says. “We’re goin’ somewhere.”

 

“...Where?”

 

Elizabeth grins, and she looks so beautiful under the moonlight. “ _Some_ where. Didn’t you hear me?”

 

Marina sighs. “Fine. I’m gonna go change, okay?”

 

“No time,” Elizabeth reaches forwards to grab Marina’s hand and pull her towards her car. “I’ve got a coat in my car.”

 

“Wait, let me lock my door for a bit.”

 

“You go do that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, this is the Paradise Station comin’ at ‘ya. I’m Lilianna and my friend Sam is here to tell you_ all _about Paramore’s upcoming album_ After Laughter _and some juicy details about the so-called affair of the multi-platinum musician Gerard Way with the ‘Mysterious Man’ or from most fan’s speculation, his ex-bandmate Frank Iero himself.”_

_“That_ is _some juicy gossip right there.Okay, so, I’ve been hearing things, even from P-more’s frontwoman Hayley Williams herself that their new album will be, quote, ‘a different and mature kind of emotion poured into a new kind of music’...”_

 

The night is young and wild, with some teenagers down the street laughing with a bottle of something in their hands, living life like it’s the fullest, smoking cigarettes like it’s the end. Drag queens stumble out of neon clubs with a grin on their faces and a purse full of tips and cash, thigh-high boots still laced up to perfection like they’re on the catwalk. Boys kiss other boys in front of the club, with passion and fire. And there Marina sits, right next Elizabeth Grant who’s driving the car with a focused sight.

 

Marina still doesn’t know where they’re heading but she doesn’t mind, as where Elizabeth would like to go, she’ll be there right next to her.

 

Then, the hills are there before her eyes, dark and lush under the night sky and the lonely moon. The stars aren’t even there, but let’s think that they are.

 

Elizabeth smiles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

“Come on!” Elizabeth extends her arm down to Marina, who’s climbing on the ladder, hands slightly shivering against the cold metal. “Come on, Grandma!”

 

“I’m almost there, you twit,” she scoffs. “It’s cold down here.”

 

“Well, it’s cold up here too and I’m wearing a _dress_ ,” Elizabeth shouts with a laugh. “Suck it up, sister.”

 

Marina sighs, and climbs the ladder up slowly, remembering to never ever look down, so she looks up, _up_ where she knows Elizabeth will be there waiting for her in a red dress. And when she’s up there, Marina will be with her like she promised.

 

When she arrives, Elizabeth is sitting on the _H_ that they are on, just looking up into sky like it’s not an empty void—she looks at it like it’s actually something worth looking at. Neither does she know, that she is even more beautiful than what she sees in that night sky, empty and plain dark except for the white glow of the moon. Just because.

 

“Sit with me here.”

 

Marina moves over to sit with her, legs dangling. Somehow she’s able to forget the fact that they’re so close to being dead, by just a little push they’d both be down on the ground with a broken bone. Probably more than one. And Marina’s there, with Elizabeth, too busy thinking about Elizabeth to think about their attempts to flirt with death.

 

“What d’you think, Marina?”

 

“I…I think this is wonderful.”

 

Elizabeth looks at her pointedly. “Be honest with me.”

 

“Alright. This is pointless.” That’s a lie. “But it’s slightly relaxing. I need this.”

 

“I’m glad.”

 

And then there it comes again. The waves of silence that washes over them, sweeps them off the ground. The night is still alive, and Marina’s head is spinning—both from being with Elizabeth and from being a few feet away from death.

 

“Hey, Mar?” Elizabeth asks, and she turns her head to face her. “About last night…”

 

“Yeah?” Marina’s voice softens because _fuck,_ she doesn’t to talk about this. Not now. Not ever.

 

“I didn’t creep you out, right?”

 

 _Creep me out,_ Marina thinks. _Are you kidding?_

 

“N—no, Liz, you didn’t.”

 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Elizabeth sighs, gaze drifting down to look down at her red shoes. “I don’t even know why I did that. Or made an attempt to do _that._ You know… Look, I’m just sorry, okay? I was just. I was caught up in the emotion, and you are just…the sweetest person I’ve ever known and I just really wanted to—“

 

Marina doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why she does stuff she obviously can’t. Think about other people she can’t think about. And most importantly, she doesn’t fucking know why she’s kissing her best friend. Right there. On the _H_ on the Hollywood Sign like they’re some cliché lovers off of a Star World romance serial that has all the characters talking about things too deeply like they all have earned an English degree. Marina shakes her head inwardly, but right now?

 

Right now she’s kissing her best friend, Elizabeth Grant.

 

When she pulls away, Elizabeth looks at her with these hooded eyes, and Marina feels hot all over, and her cheeks feel like they’re burning, and maybe Elizabeth hated it because it was just a close-mouthed kiss, almost like the kiss from _Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs._

 

But then Elizabeth puts her hand on Marina’s still-messy hair and yanks it back, revealing her fair neck, where she chooses to mark her territory there, just like how Marina imagined she would do. (But in real life, it’s definitelyone thousand times better.) And then Elizabeth brings her head down to finally kiss her, lips against lips like Marina imagined it to be, warm and fiery and Marina imagined it to be. Elizabeth’s hands are _all over_ Marina, on her thighs, under her shirt, on her neck, on her hair… It’s all too much and Marina’s body go slack under Elizabeth’s hands. It’s true that Elizabeth kisses like she means it, and Marina’s lips are bruising, flushed and red when they pull apart.

 

“Was that okay?” Elizabeth asks, and Marina is panting as she nods.

 

“That was…”

 

Elizabeth chuckles. “Glad you’re okay with it,” she says. She looks down, almost shyly, and continues, “I’ve always wanted to do that. In a… quite a long time.”

 

“El…Elizabeth,” says Marina slowly. “I really don’t know how to say this but I l—“

 

“I know.”

 

Marina is perplexed. “You—you know?”

 

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “known for a long time now.”

 

“Oh.” Marina is at loss of words—she has spent most of her life being discreet (perhaps not as discreet as she thought she was being, though) and it turns out Elizabeth knows all along. She wants to slap herself.

 

Elizabeth laughs. “You know why I hook up and don’t date, Marina?” she asks, and Marina can only shake her head, because her mouth is broken now, and she doesn’t want to ruin the moment by the lack of her brain-to-mouth filter sometimes. “It’s because me too.”

 

“You, too?”

 

“Yeah,” Elizabeth grins sweetly. “Me, too.”

 

Marina smiles, and she thinks that this is enough.

 

And then she thinks, _no,_ it’s more than enough.

 

But then Elizabeth brings her closer and puts her lips back against hers and _no._

 

This is more than enough.

 

_Much more._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> contact me at [my tumbles](https://www.tumblr.com/foxival)


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